Chapter Thirty-Seven - Sebastian
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sebastian
I KNOCK ON the door, announcing my presence before stepping in the room. “Hey, man. What’s up?” I’m doing my best to keep an upbeat tone, but the scowl on Owen’s face causes my smile to slip. I know this is the new reality, but I’m not sure when any of us will get used to it.
Blake stands up, smiling in relief. “Hey, Bash.”
She’d sent me a text a little bit ago, asking if I could swing by the hospital to talk with Owen. I was helping Thalia put together the new bookshelf for the living room before I left to go to the stadium, but she said to go if Blake needed me.
“What do you think? The same thing I’m doing every day. Lying in this bed until the nurses come to take me for a lap around the floor. I’m living the fucking dream,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He’s in an extra special mood today, I guess. We’re all still trying to get used to this new version of Owen. He’s always been cocky, lighthearted, and fun to be around, but this Owen? He’s angry, bitter, and mean. The only person he’s nice to these days is Thalia. I’m not saying he doesn’t have good reasons for his new attitude, but he’s taking it out on the wrong people who are only trying to help him.
Blake sighs tiredly, and pulls her red hair over one shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes; I’m going to get a coffee from downstairs.”
“Have fun,” I say cheerfully, but it’s taking all my effort to do so.
I’ve had a few sessions with my therapist, and we’ve spoken about Owen and how I want to help him, but he doesn’t want it. She told me that Owen has to want the help before he’ll accept it, and until that happens, all any of us can do is be there for him.
“So I got Zeus this new toy, and I think he loves it more than your sister. It’s a fluffy hedgehog that makes this grunting sound instead of a squeak, but I haven’t seen him this excited since he discovered snow,” I say, trying to get him to at least crack a smile. Thalia was rolling on the floor hysterical when she heard the sound, and honestly, I’m ready to buy a whole box of this stupid toy because of how much joy it brings her when Zeus squeaks it.
“I don’t need a babysitter. I wish you’d all stop treating me like a child,” he grumbles instead.
“Then don’t act like a child,” I quip, causing Owen to scoff.
“Whatever, Sebastian.”
It’s been almost eight weeks of this, and maybe it’s partially our fault for allowing Owen to throw this pity party for himself. I don’t care that he’s treating me this way, but the Owen I grew up with would be sick if he could see how he’s treating Blake .
She took a leave from work to be with him during his recovery, and he’s being…well, Owen is being his new special self.
I know he lost football, and his body will never be the same. I can’t even begin to understand what that feels like, but his wife is not the person to be taking that out on.
“No. It’s not whatever, Owen. You can’t go on being like this.”
His head turns slowly to look at me, his blond waves finally covering the scar on his head. “What exactly do you propose I do?” His tone is biting and cruel, but maybe it’s time someone gives him some attitude back. I know I should wait for him to be ready to accept help, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with giving him a push in the right direction.
“I think you could try not being an asshole to your wife. Blake is here every damn day, and you’re pushing her away every chance you have.” Maybe this is more of a shove than a push, but I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.
Owen’s nostrils flare as his jaw tightens. “Blake doesn’t need to be here. I didn’t ask her to come here every day. This isn’t what she signed up for, so if she doesn’t like it, she can leave.”
I must have heard him wrong. I can’t believe that just came out of his mouth. “You are fucking unbelievable. Blake comes here every single day because she loves you. She vowed to love you in sickness and in health, so actually, this is what she signed up for. Stop treating her like shit. If you need someone to take it out on, I’ll happily volunteer to be your punching bag, but Blake does not deserve it.”
“You mean, kind of how you treated my sister like shit for years when she didn’t deserve it? You’re one to talk, Walker.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking the other way. “Leave me alone.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how this works,” I reply tightly, standing up to go talk to someone who will probably tell me I’m crazy. He doesn’t have the external fixator in his leg anymore, and he’s been doing physical therapy for a few weeks now, but they’re waiting to discharge him until he’s stronger.
The nurses are hesitant when I propose my plan, but we can all see how miserable he is. Owen needs to get out of here.
Blake is back in the room, trying to talk to Owen as he gives her short-lipped answers. I hate how defeated she looks, but she’s not giving up. I bump the wheelchair against the door frame, and she looks at me in surprise.
“Sebastian, what are you doing?” she asks at the same time Owen glares at me.
“I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“I also told you that’s not how this works.” I smile at him, and he scoffs. “Blake, I’ll have him back in a little bit. You should get a pedicure or something. Go by yourself, or take Thalia with you, but Owen’s getting the rude awakening that he needs.”
Blake hesitates, looking at Owen before slowly nodding once. “Just be careful with him.”
“ I am right here . Stop talking about me like I’m not!”
With some help from a nurse, I get a protesting Owen into the wheelchair. A small part of me feels bad that I’m making him do this, but I also know he can’t stay in the same destructive cycle. We switch to crutches at the exit, and I’m a little surprised he doesn’t try to swing them at me. We stay silent the entire car ride, listening to the faint whisperings of the radio.
I’m not surprised he starts yelling at me when Owen realizes I’m taking him to the stadium, but I don’t bother giving him a response. He wants to fight, and I’m not giving it to him.
“Get out of the car,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt to hop out.
I grab his crutches from the backseat as he sits unmoving in the front seat. Maybe I should have blindfolded him after he got in the car, but I think that would have put me one step closer to kidnapping than I’d like to be. I lean against the car, holding the crutches as more cars enter the lot.
“You good?” One of the guys calls to me and I wave him on, but after fifteen minutes pass by, it’s becoming more obvious that he has no plans to get out.
I try the door, but Owen locks it just before I reach for the handle. Seriously? Are we five?
Pressing the unlock button on my keys just before trying the handle, I yank it open before Owen can try to lock it again.
“Owen, this is ridiculous.”
“I hate you,” he sneers at me, and I roll my eyes.
“That’s fine.”
“What did you bring me here for? To rub it in my face that you can still play while I can’t? This is cruel, Sebastian, and you know it,” Owen snaps.
“Get out of the car, Owen,” I say, trying to keep my temper in check, but I’m about two seconds away from losing it.
“You can’t make me. ”
That’s it. “Do you even fucking hear yourself? Get out of the car before I drag you out.” I’m not actually going to do that, but he needs this. I’d like to think if the roles were reversed, he’d give me the ass-kicking I need. I just hope he doesn’t call me on my bluff.
He stares at me in disbelief, before finally unbuckling himself. He’s careful of his leg, and I wait to offer him help until he asks for it. He has to decide he wants it. He struggles trying to swing his leg out of the car, and I hold my breath, ready to lunge forward if Owen needs it.
“Can I have the crutches?” he asks quietly, balancing on his good leg while holding onto the side of the car as I hand them over.
Owen adjusts them to the correct positioning under his arms before taking a few wobbled steps forward. “Come on,” I say, walking slowly so he can keep pace with me.
He doesn’t falter until we get to where he was hit by the car, but Owen doesn’t ask to turn back, to my surprise. He simply readjusts his crutches, starting again as I watch him proudly. We take the shortcut to where the entrance to the field is, and I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision by forcing him to come.
It’s Tuesday, so the team technically doesn’t have to be here, but we all get together for a few hours every other week to encourage team bonding. It’s our time to relax and let loose to remind ourselves this game is also supposed to be fun.
I follow his lead as he enters the field, staying near in case his crutches give on the bouncy turf. The ball being passed around hits someone in the face and a few of them laugh, but the focus is on Owen. Marques is the first to approach, a beaming smile on his face. “Lewis! Man, is it good to see you up and moving around.”
Owen slumps, resting a majority of his weight on the crutches. “Yeah, I guess,” he replies quietly, causing Marques’s smile to dim at his unenthused tone.
The team swarmed the hospital the first few days Owen was there, but once he woke up, Owen was insistent that he didn’t want to see anyone from the team. The guys rotate days, coming to sit in the waiting room, bringing coffee for the nurses and signed footballs for the pediatric floor, just waiting for Owen to change his mind about letting them see him, but he hasn’t.
I take a step back as more of the guys come to talk to Owen, giving him some room to breathe. I’m happy to see Reece is here, but he hangs back from everyone else, looking anywhere but at Owen. A fraction of my guilt eases when Owen cracks the closest I’ve seen to a smile in weeks, and it’s a relief to know that he can still do that.
“Hey,” I greet Reece with a smile, and he seems taken aback that I’m talking to him. “It’s good that you’re here with some of the guys. Some of my best memories with the team are from these days.”
“I think I’m actually going to head out,” he says, shifting his eyes back to where Owen is.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty about getting his spot.”
Reece looks at me in surprise as if I don’t understand why he wants to leave. “Why would I feel guilty? I didn’t hit him with the car.”
“I didn’t, either, but I still feel guilty as hell,” I admit to him, and he looks at me skeptically. God, this guy is only six years younger than me, but it feels like I’m talking to a kid instead of one of my teammates. I thought Reece and I had gotten past the hump of awkwardness after he came to dinner with Thalia, Penelope, and Chris, but I guess not.
“You do?”
I scratch the back of my neck because it feels weird talking about this with someone other than Thalia and my therapist. “Because he saved my girl instead of saving himself, and because I get to be out here, while Owen sits in a hospital day after day. He was a great player, and an even better friend. I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Life is too short and the best thing you can do is play your heart out while you can. Don’t feel guilty, Reece.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is to play professional football, but I wanted to earn it. I don’t feel like I earned the position getting it this way,” he says, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
“My rookie season, our starting quarterback got hit with a season ending injury a few weeks in. I got thrust into the starting spot, and I was scared shitless. I’ll never forget what he told me when I went in: you earned it by being drafted by the team, but what you do now is how you prove you deserve to be here with us. ”
Reece nods, letting my words process in his brain. “I remember your rookie season. All the guys on my high school team thought you were going to choke.”
I laugh easily, because I definitely thought the same thing. “I messed up plenty of times that season, but my team always had my back. We’ll have yours too.” I hear my name called in the background, and I look over my shoulder to see who called it, but it doesn’t matter who because Owen is crutching away as fast as he can. “Oh shit,” I swear, jogging past everyone to catch up to him before he falls .
“Owen, come on. We don’t have to go yet,” I say, grabbing his arm just as his crutch slips. He stumbles, falling into my side. “Are you okay?” I ask, and Owen pushes me back, leaning heavily on the one crutch.
I reach down to grab the crutch, offering it to him, and now I’m seriously concerned he might hit me with it. “Fuck you! I didn’t want to come here. You know better than anyone what football meant to me, and I’m never going to play again. I’m never going to be the person you all want me to be; I wanted to try, but maybe this is who I am now. Why would you think forcing me to come here— looking at everything I once had —would help me? This is the last place I want to be!” His voice trembles with anger as he yells in my face.
“I am trying to help you! I hate that you won’t play again, but this is still your team! Did you know that they come and sit at the hospital, hoping that you’ll let them come back to see you? For eight weeks, they have not stopped showing up for you when you can’t even show up for yourself. What part of that are you not getting? You don’t have to be this bitter, angry person. That’s a choice you’re making!” I respond, my anger bubbling over.
“I am bitter and angry. I lost everything!” he yells, loud enough that everyone can hear. I don’t give a shit, though. If he wants to have it out here, then we can have it out here.
I drag my hands through my hair, shaking my head at him. “Except you haven’t lost everything! You have people who love and care about you despite you trying your best to push everyone away. You’re alive . You didn’t die when that car hit you, but don’t you dare say you’ve lost everything. I pray to God you don’t know what it feels like. ”
Owen shakes his head at me, his shoulders sinking in defeat. “That’s what you don’t get, Sebastian. I do feel like I died when I was hit. Maybe it would have been better if I had.”
I have never heard the stadium so quiet, Owen’s admission echoing through the air. All the blood drains from my face, and I can’t…I can’t look at him. “Then you tell your wife that. You can tell your parents and Thalia that because you can’t play football anymore, you’d rather be dead than here with them.”
I walk away from him and head in the direction of the car, leaning against the side to wait for Owen to come out. What Owen said really threw me. I pushed him too far, too fast by bringing him here.
The worst part is, I’m not sure if he actually feels that way, or if he’s saying it because he’s upset, but either way…Owen needs help. Regardless of whether he meant it or not, I have to tell Blake, and I’m really not looking forward to having that conversation.
I’m not sure how long I stand there waiting for Owen, but I don’t have it in me to go another round with him.
I hear him before I see him, his crutches making a distinct sound on the concrete. Owen’s breathing is labored, and a part of me feels bad he had to walk back here by himself. He stops a few feet away, catching his breath, and I steel myself for whatever venom is bound to come from his mouth, opening the car door for him.
“Bash, can you wait?”
“If you’re going to tell me again how miserable you are…don’t. I already know,” I say tiredly, but Owen shakes his head .
“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been myself, but thank you for trying.” He takes a shaky breath, looking down at his mangled leg on full display in his shorts so he can wear the brace to stabilize the ligaments. “I am angry, and I think I have every right to be, but I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry,” he says slowly, looking me in the eyes. “I need help. I don’t like feeling like this.”
“Okay,” I say, offering him a smile. “We can get you help.”
Owen looks over his shoulder at the stadium, devastation filling his features. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Owen. You’re family, and you don’t give up on family.”